


Trouble Looks for Me

by NotRover



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Language, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other tags to be added, Secret Identities, Slow Burn, alcohol consumption, slight college au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8051533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRover/pseuds/NotRover
Summary: Lance had three goals: get through college, finally master his powers, and prevent his roommate from discovering his secret identity.  But with strange activity in the criminal underworld, the arrival of a new hero in town, and rumors of Voltron reforming, these goals might just be near impossible to achieve.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has helped me with this fic so far. Special shoutouts to @spoopertrouper and @angstinspace for beta-ing and to the rest of the skype chat for helping me bounce ideas off of you. You guys are the best!!

      Wind whistled over Lance’s head as he stumbled backwards over the rooftop, desperately trying to create some kind of distance between himself and his attacker.  He could feel himself losing his balance and attempted to make an emergency correction to his equilibrium. After a split second of panic, he finally found his feet beneath him.

 

      The air left Lance’s lungs in a sudden rush, as pain blossomed from his stomach.  In his brief moment of inattention, Sendak had sucker punched him.  Lance couldn’t think, couldn’t attempt to move to safety - he found he could only clutch at his midsection and gasp for breath.

 

      Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, as he tried to take in air.  But no matter how desperately his chest heaved, Lance couldn’t seem to take in any .  His lungs burned and tight bands began squeezing his chest as panic set in. Lance felt paralyzed by fear, unable to move other than in his attempts to guzzle down the oxygen his lungs craved.

 

      There was a sudden pressure around his throat and then a tightening, as Lance felt himself slowly lifted up until only his toes brushed the ground.  He could see his vision darkening.  He was vaguely aware of Sendak moving his mouth, no doubt giving some villainous monologue, but all Lance could hear was the blood pounding in his head.  

 

      Dark spots danced around the edge of his vision, coalescing and condensing until his sight reached near total blackness. Just when he thought his lungs would give out, Lance found himself on the ground gasping for breath again. Vision swimming, he slowly turned himself on his side.

 

      Lance could make out some red blur engaging Sendak, but his sense of sight was still too hazy for him to distinguish much else.  However, as much as Lance appreciated the reprieve that the arrival of this new hero brought, he refused to lie down for the rest of the fight.  

 

      Groaning softly, Lance brought himself into a crouch and then slowly, shakily, stood up.  He blinked once, then twice, until his his vision cleared.  

 

      The figure was brought into sharp relief, but Lance still couldn’t believe his eyes.  The red leather jacket, black fingerless gloves, and domino mask were dead giveaways as to just who it was. The figure who had rescued him had been Nomad.  

 

      If he was being honest with himself, Lance would admit he was a little starstruck.  

 

      Even in his dizzied state, though, he knew better than to dwell on it for long.  He raised his arm, gathering and condensing the surrounding water, and fired.

 

      The geyser missed Nomad by inches before finding its target. It struck Sendak in the shoulder, throwing him off balance and causing the villain to stumble back.  Nomad took full advantage of this distraction and pushed forward, flames spitting dangerously from his sword.

 

      Lance could see the exact moment Sendak realized he was outmatched.  His eyes widened momentarily before narrowing and he snarled, shoving Nomad away.  

 

      Nomad stumbled in shock, tripping over his own two feet and teetering dangerously close to the ledge of the building. Lance acted on instinct, lunging forward.

 

      He grabbed Nomad’s shoulder and  _ pulled _ .  

 

      Lance wasn’t expecting the sudden shift in weight and quickly found himself pinned to the ground.  The crushing weight on his chest from Nomad didn’t help his lungs any.

 

      “Hrrngh.” Lance wasn’t sure if it was the previous strangulation or the shock at the close press of their bodies that mangled his words.  Either way, just attempting to speak made his throat feel raw and painful.

 

      Mercifully, the crushing weight slowly lifted from his chest and Lance was finally able to catch his breath.  His relief was short lived, however.

 

      “You let him get away!” The words hung in the air, accusatory.

 

      “What!?! I just saved you from falling to your death,” Lance shouted, the pain in his throat rocketing up another notch.  He swept his arms toward the edge of the roof, indicating the dangerous drop. 

 

      “...Thanks.” Nomad’s face twisted into an expression Lance couldn’t quite place, before settling into what was quite decidedly a frown.  “But I can take care of myself.  Catching Sendak is more important - who knows what he could be planning next!”   
  


      Nomad let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.  He paused a moment, considering, then cocked his head and looked at Lance.  “Who are you?”

 

      Lance sputtered.  

  
  
      “Who am  _ I _ ?  Uh, the name’s  _ Riptide _ . Hero of Altea City.”  Lance stared at Nomad, watching his face for sign of recognition that was sure to come.

  
      “Really? Are you a rookie?” Confusion colored Nomad’s voice.  Lance’s vision turned red, and it had nothing to do with Nomad’s costume.

  
  
      “No! We started hero-ing at the same time! You know, Riptide and Nomad, upcoming heroes, neck and neck.” 

 

      In his ire, Lance could almost forget about the pain in his throat.  His adrenaline was still pumping, covering up the worst of it, but his voice still felt raw.

  
  
      “Oh yeah, I remember you now.  You were that rookie who flooded the city jail. They had to transfer all the inmates - I heard it was a nightmare.”  Nomad’s derisive tone made Lance’s blood boil.

 

      “Excuse you, I stopped _ an outbreak _ from city jail,” Lance exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, before bringing them back down and crossing them.  He felt the urge to rub his throat in an attempt to ease the pain, but forced his arms to remain folded firmly in front of his chest.  No way was he giving Nomad the satisfaction of seeing how badly he had been hurt.

  
  
      “Whatever,” Lance muttered. “Just stay away from  _ my _ villains.  I can handle them by myself.”

 

      “‘Handle them by myself’ my ass,” Nomad scoffed. 

 

      Lance ignored him and turned, ready to begin his rooftop journey home. But as he did so, Lance caught sight of Nomad in his periphery biting his lip, furrowed eyebrows visible through the domino mask.

 

* * *

 

      By the time Lance reached his apartment door, he was exhausted.  The sting of his myriad of bruises and small cuts and the ache in his muscles could no longer be ignored.  His body had long since stopped producing adrenaline.

  
  
      As he inserted the key to his apartment door, Lance shifted the bag on his shoulders.  His now dirtied costume weighed heavily at the bottom of his backpack and he found himself wishing he had included a scarf with his change of clothes. It was going to be a pain in the neck to explain his injuries to Hunk.

 

      As he pushed the door open, bright light flooded his eyes and the soft sounds of the television playing in the background reached his ears.  Lance swore under his breath - there would be no avoiding explaining what had happened to Hunk.  Even as he contemplated his chances of sneaking into the kitchen to grab ice before being seen, he heard Hunk’s voice call out.

  
  
      “Lance? Buddy? Is that you?” Lance felt guilty at the worried tone.  His body’s soreness had done him no favors in helping him come back at a decent time.  With another sudden wave of guilt, Lance wondered if Hunk had only stayed up to make sure he returned home safely.

 

      He edged towards the kitchen door.

 

      “Yeah, it’s me buddy.” Lance winced at the hoarseness of his own voice as well as the pain from speaking.  

 

      “Lance?”  Hunk’s voice had almost doubled both in worry and in volume.  Lance could hear the sounds of Hunk getting up from the couch, footfalls growing louder as he walked towards the front door.  

 

      Lance employed the most successful strategy he could think of - avoidance. He ducked into the kitchen and beelined straight for the fridge.  Opening the freezer drawer at the bottom, Lance determinedly stuck his head in the freezer and rummaged for ice, back decidedly turned towards the kitchen door.

 

      “Lance,” he heard Hunk say again.  Never in his life had Lance more hated the sound of his own name.  The guilt felt like a blow almost more painful than that of Sendak’s earlier sucker punch.

 

     “Lance.  Look at me.”

 

      Lance finally gave up on pretending to look for an ice pack.  It had been a flimsy excuse at best, considering how many the two owned between them.  Instead, he plucked one out of the freezer (one of Hunk’s, Lance noted distantly), and slowly turned to face his best friend.

 

      Hunk inhaled sharply, causing Lance to wince.  Lance could see the interplay of emotions on Hunk’s face, and the amount of patience it was taking Hunk to restrain himself from yelling.

  
  
      “What happened?” The quietness of Hunk’s question was almost worse than if he had shouted it.

 

      “Nothing.  It’s not a big deal,”  Lance said defensively before letting out a sigh.  “I just got into a bar fight. I didn’t realize she had a boyfriend.” 

 

      Regret thrummed through Lance’s body at the lie. He hated lying to Hunk, and hated even more the worry that he seemed to cause Hunk on a weekly basis.  It was times like these when Lance wanted to spill his secrets to Hunk.  To say that he wasn’t out getting into bar fights every week, that Lance was out saving people, stopping bad guys,  _ being a hero. _

 

      But instead, Lance stood there watching himself become the cause of the hurt look on Hunk’s face.  It was for the best, Lance reminded himself.  He was keeping everyone safe by keeping this a secret.  If he had to hurt Hunk a little to protect him then it was all worth it.  

 

      But even as he mentally repeated the mantra to himself, the words sounded hollow and false.  In what world would Lance ever be okay with being the cause of Hunk’s pained expression?  

 

      “Lance.  You  _ know _ I don’t like you hanging out at those seedy bars on the weekend.   _ Especially _ not by yourself! Look at how badly you got hurt this time! If your coach finds out you could lose your scholarship!  And who’s to say it won’t be worse next time? I -,” Hunk’s voice broke, along with Lance’s heart.  “If something happened to you I couldn’t…”

 

      “Don’t worry Hunk,” Lance laughed, rubbing his throat raw and feeling like an ass. “You know I heal quickly.”

 

      “Shut up.” The words shocked him into silence.

 

       “I can’t deal with this argument again tonight.  And you probably shouldn’t be talking right now.” Hunk said, indicating the circle of bruises around Lance’s neck.  “There’s Chinese takeout on the coffee table and I put Star Trek on.  I’m headed to bed.  We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”  Hunk’s voice had softened, but at the moment it felt like salt in the wound.  Lance knew he had screwed up royally, and Hunk’s kindness was more than he deserved.

 

      As Hunk retreated to his room for the night, Lance headed to the living room to curl up on their ratty, but comfortable couch.  He pulled the softer of the two blankets (the one Hunk always let him use) draped on the back of the couch around his shoulders, absentmindedly picking up the carton of Chinese food.  

 

      Opening the carton and taking in just what was playing on the TV, Lance knew what date it was without having to look.  It was the same shitty take-out and the same tv show the two had eaten and watched exactly two years ago when they moved into the apartment. 

  
      Appetite suddenly lost, Lance set the food back on the coffee table before retreating further into the blanket.  Even the voice of Jean-Luc Picard washing over him brought Lance no comfort.   


  
      Voice muffled by the blanket, all Lance could say was, “Fuck.”


	2. The Beacon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long its been since updates. Now that things have become less hectic for me, I'm aiming for regular updates around once a week. 
> 
> Shout out to @angstinspace for being an amazing beta again for this chapter.

      When Lance woke up, stiff and sore from his night on the couch, it was to silence.  It wasn’t unusual to find the apartment quiet on a Sunday morning, but after the events of last night Lance found it off-putting.

 

      Morning light filtered in through the room’s sole window, casting a soft light on the pale yellow walls of the living room. The TV was no longer playing in the background.  Hunk must have woken up, turned off the television, and opened the curtains all without waking Lance.

 

      His throat still ached and Lance debated about whether or not he should go to the kitchen for water and painkillers.  Ultimately he decided against it.  Chances were Hunk was there, making brunch, and Lance needed to collect himself first.  A shower it was.

 

      The cold spray was refreshing.  Lance found himself almost grateful that the water in their apartment took forever to heat up.  

 

      His bruises tingled as water ran down them in rivulets.  A bath might have accelerated his healing, but Lance was fairly confident that his bruises would fade by practice the next morning.  

      At least he hoped so - Iverson hated him enough without Lance giving him a potential reason to kick him off the team. And fighting was definitely grounds enough for Iverson to do so.

 

      The water slowly heated  up and most of the tension in his body melted away. Despite how much he enjoyed standing under the hot water, it wasn’t too much longer until Lance shut off the shower.  He couldn’t hide in the bathroom all morning.  

 

      Lance quickly got dressed before entering the kitchen, blue slippered feet shuffling along the wood floor. The smell of bacon wafted through the air and he could hear Hunk’s usual morning humming.

 

      Lance let out a quiet sigh of relief.  Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined everything.

 

      “Good morning,” he ventured, stifling a yawn.  

 

      “Good morning.” Hunk’s tone was pleasant but carefully controlled.  And he was mixing the bowl of waffle batter with more aggression than usual.

 

      Lance’s mouth felt dry as he struggled to figure out what to say.

 

      “I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to hang out today?  I’ll get takeout from that Thai place you love.”  

 

      Hunk’s brow furrowed.

 

      “You sure? It’s Sunday. Don’t you have homework?”

 

      “It’s not important,” Lance lied easily.  In all honesty his homework _was_ important and Sunday was his only full day off to work on it.  It just wasn’t as important as making up with Hunk was.  
  
      Hunk’s expression softened as he worked through what Lance hadn’t said aloud.  It was times like these that Lance found himself grateful for Hunk’s usual ability to see straight through him.  
  
      “Thai food, huh? I _guess_ I can spare a _couple_ of hours,” Hunk teased, drawing out the syllables.  “Well, as long you’re paying.”  
  
      “Of course, buddy. Least I can do.”

 

      Lance moved closer to Hunk, until they were standing next to each other, shoulders just barely brushing as they peered down at the bowl.    
  
      “You want me to take over for a bit?” Lance wasn’t quite the chef Hunk was, but Hunk usually didn’t mind relinquishing the simpler tasks to him.  Stirring waffle batter was definitely something Lance could do in the kitchen that lived up to Hunk’s high standards.

 

      “Sure,” Hunk agreed, handing off the whisk and stepping away.  Out of the corner of his eye, Lance could see Hunk crouched down, searching for the waffle iron.

 

      “Oh. I put the chocolate chips on the counter next to the fridge. Make sure to put those in last, okay?” Hunk called out, voice muffled from the cabinet.

 

      “Yeah, yeah, okay,” Lance muttered, even as he excitedly pulled the chocolate chips closer.  “You act like I haven’t helped you in the kitchen hundreds of times before.  I think I know what I’m doing.”

 

      Lance set the whisk down and ripped open the bag, popping a handful of chocolate chips into his mouth.

 

      “Well…,” Hunk trailed off meaningfully. “I distinctly remember -”  
  
      Lance promptly choked. Half-eaten chocolate sprayed onto the floor.  


      “Hunk!” he gasped, scandalized.  “I thought we agreed never to mention that.”

 

      “Well, I mean, technically I didn’t mention it.  You just assumed I was talking about it.  Which makes you the one who actually brought it - Ahah!”

 

      Hunk emerged from the cabinet, waving the waffle iron in his hand victoriously.

 

      “Found it!” 

 

      Lance looked down at the bowl he had abandoned whisking, promptly dumped in half the bag of chocolate and began stirring vigorously.    
  
      “Almost done with the batter?” Hunk asked, setting the waffle iron on the counter and plugging it in.

      “Yeah, yeah just a second,” Lance muttered, even as a grin crept up on his face.

      Things with Hunk felt almost … normal. It was as if last night’s argument had occurred a week ago.  There was still a bit of tentativeness in their actions and Lance knew they would need to revisit their argument before it festered for too long, but it seemed like they both wanted to enjoy this small bubble of peace and normality while it lasted.

      “The batter ready yet?” Hunk’s voice broke through, drawing Lance’s attention back to the present.

      “Oh.  Yeah. Here.” Lance slid the bowl towards Hunk.

      Lance soon felt himself falling into an easy, familiar pattern with Hunk.  It wasn’t long before he found himself planted on the couch with Hunk, watching TV and eating dinner.

      “Hey, get your own,” Hunk complained loudly.  He swatted at the hand that had slowly been reaching over to Hunk’s side of the coffee table.

      “Sheesh, okay, no need to be so stingy,” Lance pouted, nursing the (un)injured hand close to his chest.

      Hunk just laughed.   Something in  Lance’s chest grew  warm at the sound.

      It was like being suspended in a soap bubble.  For a precious moment, everything was perfect. Normal. But even as he enjoyed the peace, Lance was painfully aware that it was temporary; the slightest bit of tension might cause it to break. After all, Lance was very aware he still hadn’t properly apologized or continued their argument from last night.

      Pushing away his negative thoughts, Lance stretched out along the couch and leaned his head on Hunk’s shoulder.  Hunk tensed marginally at the contact and then relaxed, gingerly wrapping his blanket around them both.  

      Lance wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, cuddled on the couch in comfortable silence as the television played on the screen.  

      “Do you know what time it is?” Lance jolted at the sudden sound of Hunk’s voice. “I’m supposed to meet Shay later and I still have to get ready.”

      It took Lance a surprising amount of control to stop the smile from sliding off of his face.  He cleared his throat to dislodge the lump that had lodged itself there.

      “Uh yeah man, it’s-” Lance glanced down at his phone,”-almost seven.”

      Hunk carefully extricated himself from underneath Lance and the blanket.  

      “I’m supposed to meet her at seven,” Hunk said apologetically.  He seemed regretful, but Lance waved off his concerned look.

      “No problem buddy.  Don’t want to keep Shay waiting. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to do my homework without you distracting me.”  Lance kept his tone light and easy, but internally it was a battle to force the words out. He didn’t regret it though once he saw Hunk’s small, relieved smile.

      “Alright, well, don’t wait up for me.  I’ll be back late, okay?”  Hunk didn’t seem to be waiting for a response, but Lance nodded anyway.

      When he was sure Hunk was safely out of the room, Lance threw his arm over his face and groaned.  It wasn’t as if he hated Shay; if anything, she was too perfect to hate.  And she and Hunk got along so _well_.  Even if Lance wasn’t a hundred percent sure they were dating, it was only a matter of time until they started.  

      Lance couldn’t help but be jealous.  It wasn’t just all the late night dates they had together (Lance was usually out on patrol anyway).  It stung him to see Hunk seem so comfortable around Shay in a way he wasn’t around Lance.  

      Hunk wasn’t usually one to instigate any type of physical contact, nor did he seem comfortable having people hug him or even shake his hand.  So Lance had taken a sense of victory when Hunk had started relaxing around Lance’s normal tactile behavior; in fact, Hunk had seemed almost grateful for the contact when Lance leaned against him or cuddled with him on the couch.

      But it was different with Shay.  From almost the moment they met, Hunk had no qualms about physical contact with her.  Not even the slight, initial tenseness he often exhibited with Lance.  It had felt like a punch in the gut when he saw Hunk initiate a hug with her.

      Lance let out another, longer groan and sat up.  Self-pity wouldn’t change anything, nor would it get his mind off of it, but Lance wasn’t in the mood to do homework like he probably should have been.  

      He picked up the remote off the coffee table and began idly flipping through the channels.  Like usual, there was nothing good on TV and he didn’t even have Hunk’s usual litany of comments to make it enjoyable.  

      Lance glanced down at his phone again.  Seven o’clock.  The night was still young and he needed to drown his sorrows: the bar it was.

      Objectively, Lance knew it was a bad idea.  If Hunk made it home before him, then he would probably see Lance’s drunken stumble back into the apartment and he would know Lance had been at the same bar they had just fought about. But at the moment, Lance didn’t care.  Besides, when Hunk said he’d be back late, he usually meant it.  And Lance really didn’t want to think about the reasons why he might be planning on getting home late.

      Mind made up, Lance only lingered long enough in the apartment to don his rattiest hoodie, pull on a pair of shoes, and grab his keys and wallet.

 

      The walk to The Distress Beacon felt longer than usual, which might have had to do with the chill in the air coupled with a brisk breeze that seemed to cut through his jacket.   

      It was an obvious transition as he made his way into the Balmera.  The decrease in pedestrians out at night was one of the more obvious indicators.  Lance tucked his hands further into his hoodie pouch.

      As he walked, a movement out of the corner of his eye pulled his gaze up from the sidewalk.  Someone was walking down the sidewalk towards him.  

      At first glance, the figure didn’t seem to be too threatening.  In fact, given he was wearing glasses and dressed well, in a suit no less, Lance was worried _for_ him. But as he came closer, Lance’s worry lessened.  The man had well-defined muscles beneath his suit and he had an obviously Impact-inspired haircut.  The white streak in his hair was a dead giveaway.

      That, given the man’s obvious confidence walking down these streets, made Lance suspect he could handle himself.  Regardless, Lance hadn’t brought his costume, and couldn’t intervene without giving himself away anyway.  Besides, The Legendary Defender or the Spirit of Balmera  were usually out patrolling on Sundays anyway.  Sometimes both.  Lance was fairly confident that if anything happened, one of the two heroes would step in.  And if not …

      Lance’s mood soured slightly.  If not, Nomad was probably still strutting around as if the city was his.  And as much as he was loathe to admit it, Nomad would also be able to stop a couple of muggers, no sweat.

      As they passed each other, the suited man gave him a nod of acknowledgement, which Lance returned with what was probably an odd expression on his face.  Familiarity with strangers was _not_ something that was encouraged in Altea City, especially not in the Balmera.  

      Other than his strange encounter, Lance’s walk to the Beacon was uneventful, which Lance appreciated.  He wasn’t in any mood to deal with something unexpected.

      The bar itself was relatively uncrowded, only populated by its regulars, all of whom Lance knew by name.  In fact, the only stranger there was behind the bar itself, assisting Nyma in wiping it down.

      He made his hellos to the cluster at the back of the bar, including Nyma’s boyfriend, Rolo.  Lance preferred to stay on Rolo’s good side. Not only did it mean staying on Nyma’s good side, but also he was Lance’s best source of information on the criminal underworld.  Besides, for what Lance assumed to be a two-bit criminal, Rolo was a pretty cool dude.

      “Hey Lance.” Nyma’s usual flirtatious greeting carried towards him easily.

      Lance made his way across the room and sat at one of the stools across from Nyma.  

      “Hey Nyma,” Lance returned the greeting in an equally flirtatious tone.

      “The usual?” Nyma didn’t even need to wait for Lance’s answer before turning towards the new face.  

      “He’ll have a rum and coke,” she said sweetly.  She turned back towards Lance, interest plain on her face.  “Looks like you got a little banged up since the last time I’ve seen you.”

      “It’s no big deal,” Lance said, in an attempt to brush off Nyma’s curiosity.  “Looks worse than it feels. Who’s the new hire?”

      Given her knowing look, Lance could tell she had seen through his flimsy attempt at changing the conversation.  Regardless, Nyma seemed to play along anyway.

      “That’s Keith.  Says he’s just passing through, but he didn’t give me an idea of how long he was planning on staying.  Still, while he’s here I’m sure he’ll draw in a few more customers.  He’s cute, isn’t he?”  Nyma watched Lance’s face carefully in an attempt to gauge his reaction to her question, nails tapping on the counter.

      Lance had to fight to keep from blushing. Sure he’d admit he liked what he saw when he walked in but…

      “He has a mullet,” Lance replied flatly.  Lance wasn’t sure where Nyma’s desire to know what he thought of the newbie came from, but he was sure she was up to no good.

      “Well, I think he pulls it off,” Nyma purred appreciatively.  Lance scowled.

      “Not sure Rolo would like you flirting with the new guy.”

      “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I’m just looking. Besides, he doesn’t mind it when I flirt with _you_.” Nyma smirked.

      It was at that moment that Keith slid Lance’s drink over to where he was sitting.  Lance looked up and sucked in a breath. He’d been too far away from Lance earlier for him to notice, but Keith’s eyes were gorgeous.  Lance could feel a blush creeping up his neck towards his face and looked down at his drink.

      “Thanks,” he mumbled, eyes fixed firmly on the floating ice cubes. It wasn’t until Lance was fairly confident Keith had retreated back to where he had been wiping down the other end of the bar that he looked back up and was greeted with Nyma’s knowing look.

      “Shut up,” Lance muttered before Nyma was given the chance to speak.  Her small, knowing smile turned into a grin that split her face.

      “Well I can see that I don’t need to say anything.” Her tinkling laugh seemed to echo around the room.  Lance couldn’t help but grin at the sound.  Nyma’s familiar teasing actually felt nice if Lance was being honest.

      He picked up the glass in front of him and took a sip.  While Lance hadn’t ordered a difficult drink by any means, he had to admit it tasted good. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have Keith working here, even if it meant Nyma would tease him constantly.

      “-Voltron.”

      Lance almost did a spit-take and slammed his glass back down on the counter.  The rest of the room fell into hushed silence.  

      He wasn’t the only one intently listening in on the rest of Rolo’s conversation.  Keith had frozen in his movements, washrag hanging limply from his hand.  Even Nyma seemed shocked by the mention of the word.  The tension in the air was palpable; the room had gone dead quiet.

      “She’s been looking into what happened ten years ago. I say good luck.  Especially if she doesn’t want to go the way of the rest of that team.  Zarkon’s been off the grid for years.  If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. No way she’ll get close.  Even if she did, I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes if she finds him.”  Rolo seemed to relish the attention of the rest of the bar, even if it was somewhat subdued by the topic at hand.

      “Well, I say you’re making it up,” another regular scoffed.  “Nobody’s fool enough to go poking their nose around into _that_ business.”

      Rolo scowled, offended.

      “I’m not the only one who’s heard about her digging around where she shouldn’t be.  Eddie down by Fifth said he heard her talking to _Impact_ about Voltron.  They were on top of the roof of that building he always squats in. The condemned one by the corner.”

      “Yeah, well, he’s called Crazy Eddie for a reason.  It don’t make sense for her to talk to him about what happened.  Impact wasn’t even in the game when Voltron was massacred.” The man paused.  “You don’t think…”

      There was no need to finish the sentence.  The rest of the room seemed to have come to the same conclusion.  The tension in the air thickened, and Lance’s fingers trembled with a combination of nerves, excitement, and fear.

      After a beat, the entire room erupted into argument at once.  

      “There’s no way-”

      “Maybe it’s about time…”

      “-crazy.”

      The voices seemed to drown each other out as they argued about whether this information meant what they thought it meant. The reformation of Voltron.  

      Lance thought he was the only one still frozen until he looked over at Keith, whose knuckles had turned white with the force he was using to ball his hands into fists.

      He shut out the voices and closed his eyes in an attempt to focus his thoughts.  There was no way that someone was crazy enough to try and reform Voltron.  After all, no self-respecting hero would work on a team after the best of them had been betrayed by one of its own.  Lance could count on one hand the number of heroes who made the occasional team-up. And those alliances were always temporary, grounded by the reality that heroes couldn’t even trust each other anymore.

      Lance opened his eyes and looked at his mostly full glass.  With his stomach roiling from all the excitement, there was no way he’d be able to finish his drink now.  At least not without promptly making himself sick afterward.

      He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and slapped a few bills down on the table.  

      “I think I’m gonna head back.” Lance gestured towards the door. The conversation had long devolved and Lance needed to go back home and think.  Nyma just nodded wordlessly in response.

      Lance headed towards the front of the bar, his head spinning dangerously fast as thoughts and questions bounced around inside his brain.  There was no way this was really happening, was there? As much as Rolo was usually a reliable sense of information, this had to be just a rumor spread by someone hoping to stir up trouble.  

      He tugged on the door handle absentmindedly and opened the door, welcoming the sudden blast of cool air across his face.  Before he stepped through the doorway, Lance turned around one last time to see Keith lost in thought and biting his lip, eyebrows furrowed deeply as he scrubbed with more force than necessary at the counter.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come shoot questions or talk about this with on my tumblr (@redbayards)


	3. New Developments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I want to apologize for how long it took to update this fic - I was on an unexpected hiatus for a while, which meant this was put on the backburner for a bit. Rest assured, I definitely intend on finishing this fic and won't abandon it. On the plus side, the time off gave me time to figure out how to work in another beloved character into this chapter!
> 
> A huge thank you and shoutout to @angstinspace and @221bdisneystreet! You guys are the best!

“You again?!”

A familiar figure in red stood across from him on the rooftop. Lance’s outburst hung in the air, and for a moment their eyes locked onto each other, the whistling of the wind the only sound between them. A shiver ran down Lance’s spine as the breeze bit mercilessly through his costume.

It was the third time in two weeks Lance had run into Nomad. To be frank, it was getting on his already-frayed nerves. If Rolo’s rumors of Voltron had put him on edge, his regular run-ins with Nomad had pushed him off it. 

“What are you doing here?” Lance couldn’t keep a thin thread of uneasiness out of his voice. His fingers twitched at his side, itching to pull the surrounding moisture in the air together.

“What am I … I’m looking into the disappearances. Same as you, I’m guessing.” Annoyance crept into Nomad’s voice as he attempted to brush away the hair the wind kept blowing into his face. Another reason Lance could add to his mental list of why no one should have a mullet. 

“Disappearances?” Lance echoed, brow furrowing together. He had heard rumors of people going missing in Balmera, but that was definitely not the lead that had sent him here. 

“Yeah. People have been - is that not … ? Wait, why are you here?” Confusion colored Nomad’s voice and Lance could see his nose scrunch even from across the rooftop.

“I was looking into the thefts at Castle Industries,” Lance said slowly, mentally putting the new information together. If the disappearances and the rash of high-end science equipment thefts had led both heroes to the same place, then… 

Well, then this ran much deeper than Lance had suspected. 

Nomad’s eyes flickered over at him. Lance could tell he had come to the same conclusion. The pair stared at each other uncertainly. 

Lance began to fidget, fingers tapping along his thighs in stark contrast to Nomad’s unnatural stillness. He could have been mistaken for a statue if Lance didn’t know any better.

“We’ve ran into each other three times now.” Nomad’s voice shattered the silence like a hammer. Lance could only wait wordlessly for Nomad to continue.

“I think … ” Nomad paused to wet his lips. “I think our investigations are connected. That whoever’s behind the disappearances has been behind the thefts.”

He sucked in a quick but sharp breath.

“I think,” he continued, nerves in his voice apparent, “that we need to work together on this. Share intel. This doesn’t seem like just one or two criminals working together. This whole thing with people going missing feels organized, well-planned out. And now it turns out they’re the ones stealing science equipment?” Nomad’s brow creased in concern. He didn’t need to finish his train of thought.

Lance froze, all fidgeting and twitching at a standstill as he stared at Nomad. This… this was way above his pay grade, especially considering he wasn’t paid at all. And it was exactly the reason he started hero-ing in the first place. 

Lance considered the figure standing before him. Nomad’s track record gave Lance no reason to mistrust him, although Voltron had had no reason to suspect one of their own either. Still. If they were facing a group of organized criminals like they suspected, it would be too much for even Lance to handle alone. And this didn’t have to be a permanent team-up. Just a one-off thing until the case was over. 

Lance swallowed audibly. “Makes sense. I’m in.” 

Nomad seemed relieved by his agreement, some of the tension melting from his shoulders.

Lance let out a shaky breath before edging his way across the roof towards Nomad. His fingers started to itch again nervously. Nomad awkwardly jolted forward to meet him halfway. 

“So,” Lance breathed, feeling a little reckless with his decision. Nervousness and a hint of excitement thrummed through his veins, keying him up and making him antsy. “What’s the plan? Go in, kick ass, and take names?”

The corner of Nomad’s mouth curled up into a small smile. Some of Lance’s uneasiness fell away with that human gesture. 

“Well, I suppose we could do that. Might be a little difficult considering there doesn’t appear to be anyone in there.”

“Wait, what?” 

“I’ve been staking out this building since yesterday and no one has gone in or out. I think they’ve moved on.”

Lance couldn’t help but scowl at the news. Of course Nomad had found the place first. Not only that, but it appeared to be a dead end. They’d still need to search the building, but Lance wasn’t holding out any hope for a sloppy mistake. Lance and Nomad seemed to be a couple of steps behind. 

“Ladies first?” Lance asked, gesturing for Nomad to go on ahead of him. Nomad scowled but made his way towards the edge of the rooftop, Lance close behind him.

The pair made their way to the other building’s roof, Lance wincing as he landed heavily. He shook out his ankles as he followed Nomad to the rooftop access door on the far side. They stopped in front of it, huddling in front of the security panel.

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance you know the passcode?”

“Seriously, Riptide?”

“What?” Lance asked defensively. “You never know!” He paused. “Maybe it’s unlocked. I mean there’s no reason to maintain the security if it’s abandoned.”

Nomad put on a considering look and tried the door handle. To their mutual surprise, the door swung open easily. 

“Huh. That’s surprising.”

“That’s - Riptide, this was your idea!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t actually expect it to work.”

Nomad sent Lance an incredulous look before pushing past him. Lance scowled in response and followed Nomad down the steps.

For a secret villain’s lair, the interior was rather unassuming. Lance had to admit he was disappointed. Not only was it devoid of people but it was devoid of … things. Only the occasional desk and chairs remained, and it was clear that most, if not all, of the important equipment had been removed. 

The pair picked their way across the floor, and Lance crinkled his nose as he tried to keep from sneezing. A thin layer of dust coated every visible surface, and their feet kicked up clouds off the ground as they walked.

After scanning the open area and finding nothing, Lance led the way into the hallway. It was lined with doors on either side, and Lance and Nomad took to the task of checking the rooms one by one. 

The first room appeared to have been used as small labs of some kind. The counters and cabinets on the walls reminded Lance of his chemistry class. Small, stainless steel tools littered some of the surfaces. Otherwise, the rooms were just as empty and unhelpful as he had feared.

The next few rooms were more of the same, though he noticed a couple of them housed stainless steel gurneys that had been abandoned. 

Opening the door to the next room, Lance immediately began to feel sick. He could feel Nomad craning around him to see what caused him to stop in his tracks. After a moment, a tentative hand on his shoulder pulled Lance’s gaze from the empty mattress lying on the floor. Nomad was staring concernedly at Lance, who let out a shaky breath before nodding in response to his unasked question.

“I’m fine.” Determination and a sense of fury made his voice come out sharper than he had intended. Nomad said nothing in response, contemplating Lance for a moment. It made Lance feel antsy to be stared at so intensely, but he remained silent. And if Nomad took the lead in searching rooms, Lance had nothing to say about that either.

Lance could only feel a sense of relief when they reached the final room at the end of the hall. 

“Last room,” Lance said, false cheer coloring his voice. Nomad quirked a smile in response.

“You ready?”

“Always.”

Nomad reached for the door handle, hesitating only briefly before twisting it . The door swung open. Lance blinked in surprise.

The room had obviously been used as an office of some kind. What was surprising was not the fact that a computer had actually been left behind, but that there was already someone there, clicking away at the keyboard. The first thing Lance noticed was that the person was tiny and clad in a leather jacket, with aviator goggles pushed up onto their head. Lance had to admit, she looked nothing like what he imagined of a criminal, and he wondered just what her purpose was for being there.

“Hello?” Lance asked, unsure of exactly what to do in this situation. Nomad elbowed him harshly, causing Lance to let out a sharp yelp. He flushed in embarrassment at the noise he made and shot Nomad a murderous glare as he clutched his side.

Lance wanted to start yelling at Nomad, but it was clear the two of them now had an audience.

The girl raised her head from the computer screen, her expression fierce and defensive. “Who are you?” she demanded. 

Lance opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Nomad.

“I’m Nomad, and this is Riptide,” he said carefully, watching her expression. “Who are you?” A flicker of recognition crossed her face at the names, before she smoothed her expression completely and folded her arms in front of her chest. She tilted her chin defiantly. 

“You can call me Joltik.” There was a pause. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking into disappearances,” Nomad replied before jerking his thumb in Lance’s direction. “And he’s looking into some thefts.” Nomad hesitated for a moment. “Is that what you’re doing here too?”

She uncrossed her arms and swallowed heavily. 

“Yeah.” Her voice was thick with an emotion Lance couldn’t place. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Have you found anything? On the computer, I mean. We checked the rest of the rooms, but, uh, they didn’t really leave anything behind,” Lance said, darkening momentarily as he thought back to what they had found.

Nomad chimed in. “If you’ve found anything at all, Joltik, it would-”

“Zapdos.”

“Wait, what?” Nomad’s wrinkled in confusion, and even Lance found his eyebrows furrowing at the non-sequitur. 

“My name. It’s Zapdos,” she said, jutting her chin out, daring them to argue. So of course, Nomad didn’t let it go.

“You just said your name was Joltik,” he protested. 

“No I didn’t. I said my name was Rotom,” she smirked.

Lance struggled not to laugh. For a moment, he thought Nomad’s face might turn as red as his jacket. Finally, he seemed to get himself under control.

“Well, Rotom, did you find anything on the computer?”

She smirked at Nomad briefly before adopting a more serious expression. “I haven’t finished going through everything, but it looks like this building’s intranet isn’t connected to any more bases that they probably have. I can give you the records of what they’ve been doing here, but I don’t see much in the logs that tells where they’ve moved their operations to.”

Nomad nodded seriously in response, while Lance frowned in thought. 

“You wouldn’t be able to get us copies of their logs, would you?”

She scoffed, clearly offended at the question. “Of course I can. I don’t suppose you have any flash drives on you, do you?” 

She took their silence as an answer and sighed. “And I suppose you both want your own copies?” 

She grumbled and dug into one of the many pockets in what Lance now realized was a utility belt. He was admittedly impressed and half wanted to ask where she had gotten it.

It took her a while to finish searching the computer, and it seemed to take even longer for her to finish downloading the information. By the end, Lance was pacing the small room while Nomad gave him an irritated look.

“Here.”

Lance paused his pacing and turned to see her holding out a couple of flash drives. Lance took one of them and tucked it into the inside of his glove. He really needed to ask her where she got her utility belt. 

Nomad’s own flash drive was tucked into his jacket pocket, and the two turned to each other.

“Well I guess the both of us should go over this then?” When Lance got an affirmative response, he turned back around.

“Thank you.” 

The girl gave a sharp nod in response. After a moment of awkward silence, Lance started to head out of the room. 

“Wait.”

Lance looked back at her again.

“While you’re out there, looking,” she said, stumbling over her words, “there’s… I’m looking into a couple of...personal disappearances. A couple of scientists. They were working on the Kerberos project. Sam and Matt Holt. If you’re looking too…”

Lance’s expression softened.

“We’ll find them too,” Nomad promised, vocalizing Lance’s thoughts. 

She gave a jerky, grateful nod, and Lance could see a little bit of tension leave her shoulders.

It wasn’t until the pair made it back up onto the roof that Lance hesitated. 

“I guess we both need time to go over the flash drives. And then…” 

Nomad frowned for a moment before giving Lance a sharp nod. “We’ll meet up at the same spot, Thursday. Eight o’clock.”

He didn’t wait for a response before turning to leave.

Lance sputtered. “Wait! You can’t just - what if-”

Nomad didn’t even turn around. 

Lance scowled, visibly pissed off. “Bossy jerk,” he muttered. 

The whole way home, Lance fumed. Any enjoyment he normally got from traveling over rooftops was tempered by his annoyance. It seemed all too soon before he reached his own roof and he made his way down the fire escape to his window, carefully trying not to rattle the metal steps.

He slid his window open and clambered inside, wincing as he landed heavily on the carpeted floor. He shut the window and latched it before walking tiredly over to his dresser. He stripped quickly and shoved his uniform and the flash drive into the back of his underwear drawer, pausing only to pull on a white sleep shirt. 

Looking at the clock, Lance groaned as he saw the time. 3:27 am. He looked forlornly at his bed before padding to his door. He still needed to complete his nightly beauty routine or he would regret it when he broke out later.

He opened and shut his bedroom door behind him silently. As he turned towards the bathroom, the floor creaked loudly. Lance cringed at the sound.

“Lance?” Hunk’s sleepy voice carried down the hallway to where Lance was standing.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Hunk’s door opened.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“I, uh, had a nightmare,” he lied. 

“Are you okay?” Hunk frowned. “You’re not wearing your beauty mask.”

Warmth bloomed in Lance’s chest. “Yeah, I was just tired and crashed before I got a chance to do it. Since I’m up anyway I figured I’d go to the bathroom to do it now.”

“Okay.” Hunk still seemed worried, peering at Lance’s face concernedly. “Well since I’m up I’m going to make some hot chocolate. Do you want some?”

He could tell that Hunk was only going through the trouble of making hot chocolate for Lance’s benefit and struggled to refrain from crushing Hunk in a hug. Instead, he simply nodded and smiled gratefully. 

“Well I’m going to go do my routine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Yeah, a minute,” Hunk laughed fondly. 

Lance huffed, a smile on his face and his annoyance from earlier washing away easily. “Whatever.” 

Maybe it was to prove Hunk wrong and maybe it was just because he really wanted some of Hunk’s hot chocolate; regardless, he finished his skin care routine in record time. Even Hunk seemed impressed when Lance made his way into the kitchen. The scent of chocolate made his mouth water.

Hunk pressed a warm mug into Lance’s hands. 

“Thanks,” he said, before blowing carefully on the piping hot drink.

Hunk just gave him an easy, soft smile in response, humming as he grabbed the other mug sitting on the counter next to them. Lance raised his mug to his lips and took a sip, letting out a little noise of pleasure as the hot chocolate hit his tongue.

For a moment the two stood there sipping at their drinks in comfortable silence. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Lance looked up at Hunk, his confusion making him furrow his eyebrows.

“The nightmare, I mean,” Hunk explained, having read Lance’s expression.

“Oh.” Lance looked down into his mug and found himself wishing he would see the answers reflected in his drink. He hadn’t really had a nightmare, but he didn’t want Hunk to feel like he didn’t trust him anymore. “It’s, uh, pretty silly. I’m fine now though. No way it was actually real.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure it’s not silly, Lance.”

Lance gave Hunk a brilliant smile. Warmth flooded his veins, and he didn’t think it could be attributed solely to the hot chocolate.

“Yeah it was pretty funny now that I’ve woken up,” Lance laughed, making up a dream on the spot. “We were space explorers Hunk. Space explorers. Can you imagine flying in space with your motion sickness?”

Hunk chuckled. “That would be pretty funny,” he admitted, setting his empty mug next to the kitchen sink. “Are you done?”

Lance blinked and looked at his mug, surprised to find it empty. He hadn’t even remembered drinking the whole thing. 

“Guess I am,” he said, passing it over to Hunk, who set it next to his own mug. “And I guess I should go to bed. Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Hunk gave Lance a warm gaze that caused a funny swooping sensation in his stomach. 

“Thanks,” he replied, clearing his throat. Neither of them made any move to leave the room. An odd sort of tension seemed to permeate the atmosphere around them. 

Finally - 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Lance’s outburst seemed to surprise them both. “I’m sorry, I -”

“Y-you don’t need to apologize,” Hunk said, face obviously flaming. “But it’s probably not a good idea. I move around a lot in my sleep, and I don’t want to hurt you. If you have another nightmare you can still come wake me up though!” he hurried to add.

As Hunk listed reasons why it was not a good idea to sleep in the same bed as Lance, Lance mentally berated himself. He was mortified; why had he asked that?

“Yeah, I’m just, uh, gonna go to bed then. Goodnight!” Lance all but bolted for his room. Closing his door behind him, Lance flopped onto his bed and groaned, throwing his arm across his face. 

“Stupid,” he muttered, regret coursing through his body. He knew Hunk wasn’t all that into close physical contact and he had basically asked to cuddle with him all night? God, Lance felt like an insensitive idiot for putting Hunk on the spot like that. He couldn’t believe he tried to take advantage of supposedly having had a nightmare, even if the question had been blurted out in an attempt to break the weird atmosphere surrounding them.

Regardless of what he had meant to do, Lance had done it. All he could hope for was Hunk being just as willing to never bring it up again as Lance was. And that this wouldn’t plague Lance and keep him up all night; he was exhausted and not at all looking forward to swim practice in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! And if you want to talk about Voltron or even this fic specifically, feel free to hit me up on tumblr - you'll find me @redbayards!

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come talk about the fic with me, come visit me at @redbayards on tumblr


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